Nel Monumento
by Kovitlac
Summary: A bittersweet goodbye to our friend, Mario Auditore.     COMPLETE. During Brotherhood. Please R/R.


**Nel Monumento**

**January, 1500**

**Firenze**

Ezio grimaced, even as kind words rolled off the tongues of both noblemen and common folk, alike. _Your uncle was a brave man… Truly a leader, Ezio. A man like him surely will never be forgotten…_ Every single one of them meant well. But their words only served as a painful reminder to the man he'd lost. The man who had been nothing short of a second father to him. Ripped violently away, by the same _famiglia maledetta_ that stole his father and brothers from him, as well. And he… he had the chance to make one of them pay dearly. And he had stood by, watching that chance slip through his fingers like grains of fine sand.

Machiavelli had been right. He had been stupid to leave Rodrigo alive. And for his foolishness, his uncle had paid with his life at the hands of Rodrigo's son, Cesare Borgia. It turned Ezio's stomach.

"…and though we cannot put his bodily remains to eternal rest, may this _monumento_ stand as a symbol of our humble gratitude, and…"

Ezio tuned out. His uncle may have been popular and well-liked throughout Monteriggioni (and much of Tuscany, for that matter), but he would never have been one for the formality and ritual of a Catholic funeral ceremony, much less the modest oblisk built for his honor. But when the townsfolk and refugees of his uncle's small city came to Ezio with the request of having him attend a funeral service in his uncle's tribute, Ezio didn't have it in his heart to refuse them. A wise man had once told him that people grieve in many different forms, and far be it from him to judge how others mourn their losses. _Who was he,_ _after all,_ Ezio thought bitterly, _to judge when he lamented his own losses by murdering those directly responsible?_

"…and that by your command, _Dio di Signore_, will we, as your children, one day return to but ashes and dust…"

Ezio hadn't been able to bring himself to return to the ruins of his uncle's – of his – city. Not yet. Perhaps in a month; perhaps in twelve months. Perhaps never. _What remains for me there, now? _Nothing but a pile of old stone and aching memories that Ezio already knew from experience would never fade away. Even now, after all these years had passed, nightmares still lingered in the back of Ezio's mind as he slept. Witnessing his father, Giovanni, and his brothers, Federico and Petruccio, hung at the gallows. Seeing the twisted delight on Vieri de Pazzi's face when Ezio confronted him in San Gimignano, before ending his life. Worst of all, the faces of his mother and sister; Claudia's horrified, grief-stricken, while his mother Maria's, quiet. Unreadable. Little more than a blank slate. The look of a woman thrust into shock, despair and agony creating a deep well that took years for Maria to mentally claw her way out of. And still, neither woman would ever be the same again. Nor would Ezio, for that matter.

"…may you grant everlasting peace in death, unto your child. Amen."

Ezio's reverie was broken by the gentle sound of boots scraping against the ground; of the gentle murmur of men speaking and women weeping. Distracted, he nodded solemnly to the priest before stepping forward. It would be wrong for him to not say anything. Even if he had, in private, already said everything to his uncle that needed to be said. Ezio drew in a slow breath.

"My friends… I cannot thank you enough for your thoughts and prayers. I know my uncle; he…he would have appreciated them." _More like he would have rolled his eyes and asked for another round. Not much of a believer, mio asino._ Ezio lowered his eyes to the chapel floor. There were murmurings of approval, but they were little more then background noise to the assassin. He quietly excused himself from any further proceedings. He had somewhere else to be.

"I had thought you might not come." Niccolo Machiavelli greeted Ezio with a subtle tilt of his head. Ezio embraced his sister, than held out his arm to his mother. Maria managed only the corner of a smile.

"I knew you would come,_ figlio mio_."

"The people of Monteriggioni needed me."

"They will need you now more than ever, now that…he…" Maria trailed off, and the glimmer of a sad smile that had been there all but a moment ago dissolved completely. Ezio felt her pain – to her, Mario had been not only a dear friend and brother-in-law, but one of the very few remaining ties she had left to her husband. Now only her children remained to remind her. Her son gave her arm a squeeze.

"I will be there, both for them and for you." Ezio offered her the forced smile she was unable to give him. He felt Machiavelli shift his weight from foot to foot. The current de facto leader of the Assassin's Order was all too easy to read. He was eager to return to Roma and rid his hands of the Borgia filth at long last. Ezio wanted revenge…justice for the brutal slaughter of his uncle…but there was just one thing he needed to take care of, first.

Paying proper respects to Mario was more important. Retribution would come soon enough.

He nodded to the other Assassin. "If you would, Niccolo…"

Ezio knew his uncle would not have stood for Ezio burying his sword, or placing it on what would stand as his tomb. _Why throw away something you could use, just so it may have the pleasure of lying around gathering dust for centuries?_ he'd say. But while Ezio in no way planned for a full Catholic ceremony, complete with candles, Absolution and funeral hymns, he did want to give his uncle the sort of remembrance ceremony the old man would have approved of.

Machiavelli stepped forward, baring the heavy, woolen black cloth that had been Mario's cloak. Complete with the golden Auditore Crest switched onto the back. Ezio had asked Machiavelli to keep it safe for him upon his return to Firenze. Despite his misgivings about Ezio's decision to spare Rodrigo Borgia, and his own haste to return to Roma as soon as possible, Machiavelli agreed. He, too, owed his respects to the man who had stood at the head of their Order. Now he handed the folded cloak to Mario's only living nephew, who grasped it tightly in his hands, thumbs running over the fine embroidery. While Ezio could not bring himself to return to Monteriggioni to place it there, perhaps the new Assassin's Headquarters on _Isola di Tiber_ in Rome would act as a suitable replacement. The empty marble casket he had build for the ceremony chamber would serve as a welcome memorial to the departed Assassin.

Claudia nodded in approval, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "_Zio_ Mario would appreciate it. It is… befitting of him." She all but whispered.

"So it is." Ezio agreed, staring thoughtfully at the worn fabric. _Just as Zio Mario guided us through the final moments of the Old Order, so shall his spirit watch over the Brotherhood as we begin anew. _And then he allowed himself a tiny,_ …Amen. _


End file.
